Title deleted until something original comes up!
by fubrite
Summary: OK, this ISN't a Mary-Sue... it's a Jimmy-Bob! Seriously though! A young man finds himself in Middle Earth, and meets up with several well-known faces... No, he doesn't fall in love with anyone, or vice versa, sorry. No slash, ratings may go up later. Ple
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I just play. I'll put 'em back nicely when I'm finished, promise!

Of Elves and Men - Prologue 

Michael tossed and turned, struggling to get loose, but the nightmare held him firm in its grip. It was the old one, the one he'd had uncounted times before. The memories were so vivid – the cruel laughing eyes of his captors, the intense burning pain…_No, _his mind screamed at him, _that was years ago! They are memories – nothing more! _

His body thought otherwise, however, and started trembling as the door to the dark cell in his dream opened just as it had on that last fateful morning. He knew what was coming next – he had relived it so many times that he was familiar with the tiniest detail…_It's just a dream! You don't have to go through this! Wake up!_

Michael tried harder than ever to get away from the dark figure that always haunted his nightmare at about this point. _You can get away! You can! It isn't real! You can leave this if you just try…_As the figure came towards him, he gathered all his scattered wits and strength and wrenched his mind away from the darkness.

He woke with a start, and jerked half upright, covered with sweat and still shaking. Then he felt the unmistakeable prick of sharp steel at the base of his throat and froze. Michael forced his eyes to focus properly and found himself staring at a shiny sword blade that was hovering inches from his neck. He found himself marvelling at the craftsmanship of the thing, as it was as much a thing of beauty as the functional weapon he was sure it was. He forced himself back to the situation he found himself in. _Plenty of time to admire it if I'm still around later…_ The man holding it was dark and tall. He had an almost inhuman beauty about him that did not detract from the way he carried himself – which was what Michael was more concerned about. He had the bearing of a trained warrior, and now that Michael had pulled himself together enough to notice, so did the half-dozen of his friends who were behind him – with drawn bows. They all had the same look to them, as if they might be siblings – for there were one or two women interspersed among the men. 

_It's not fair._ Michael thought idly as he raised his hands to an unmistakable position of surrender._ It's too much that one of them should be that good-looking, but all of them? They shouldn't be allowed …to… be…_ His train of thought was derailed as the one holding the sword turned to talk to his companions. No human he knew had ears like that, all pointed, and come to that, they were all dressed very strangely. Almost like something out of a tale… _Oh dear…_

***


	2. Chapter 1

**Of Elves and Men – Chapter 1**

Argarath took a good look at the young, bedraggled human who was crouching at the base of an elm tree. He had appeared to be asleep when they first found him, but had woken with a start not long afterwards. He was covered in mud from head to foot and completely soaked – which was interesting in itself as they were far from even a brook, and it had not rained  in several days. He did not look harmful, but appearances could be deceptive, and in any case, by decree, any intruders found near Rivendell were to be taken and brought to the Lord Elrond. He turned to the rest of his hunting party and gave a wry grin. "It appears our hunt is to be cut short. We must take this one to Lord Elrond".

The elf (for that is what it (he?) was, he was almost sure now) turned back to Michael and spoke. The words were at once strange and yet familiar, but the hand gesture was clear. The blade moved away from his throat and Michael rose slowly and warily to his feet, keeping his hands in the open. The leader of the group sheathed his blade in one smooth movement and stepped towards him, drawing a long cord from the pouch at his waist. At the same time, two of the archers on either side let their bows down and started towards him. Michael smiled a little, shrugged and slowly turned round, placing his arms in the small of his back in an optimum position for binding. There was no way he was going to make trouble – there wasn't much he could do against seven armed warriors, when he hadn't even a penknife on him, so the only choice was to cooperate and make things easy on himself.

The elves shared a look that spoke volumes and the two archers dropped back again. Argarath tied the cord firmly round the boys left wrist and right forearm, crossed to his right bicep, passed round the right side of the neck to the front, back down the left side and across to the right bicep, and from there back down to the right wrist and left forearm. This made a double cross pattern vertically on the young prisoner's back.

While the elf was busy, Michael took the chance to take in his surroundings. This wasn't where he had fallen asleep, certainly! For one thing it wasn't raining… He winced as a knot was pulled tight and noted that the elf certainly knew what he was doing. There was no chance of him getting out of this by himself, unless he dislocated his shoulders, and he was not about to do that unless absolutely necessary! The elf spun him round by the shoulder and let go quickly as Michael flinched at the pressure on a large bruise. He wasn't sure but he thought he saw a wave of concern flash across the normally impassive face of the elf leader. _Now that'd be a rare thing – captors who care about their captive! _In Michael's experience, the only ones who did that were those that kidnapped for ransom, and they were usually just interested in keeping the hostage alive long enough to get the money. 

Argarath motioned the group forward and gave the boy a gentle push in the right direction, noting again with unease the almost unnoticeable hiss of pain that escaped him. Halfway down the path he halted the company again, locked eyes with the boy and pointed behind him. The boy turned, to find Argarath's best archer no more than five paces behind him, with bow drawn. Argarath walked up to him, lifted his chin to meet his eyes, and said calmly "If you run, he will shoot you before you have gone ten paces." He wasn't sure that the boy had understood his words, but it appeared that he understood the gist of what was said, so the company moved off in the direction of Rivendell.


End file.
